


Don't change

by Tehri



Series: Memories of Home [10]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo has seen this before, Bilbo needs to make a decision, Gen, Gold Sickness, In which Bilbo talks at length of a rift in the Baggins family, Thorin is not exactly a dick, Thorin is not exactly nice either, at least a little bit, sort of angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has seen people change before, and hobbits are not fond of change. Especially not when it's a change for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't change

Never in all his life would Bilbo forget the tension in the air when the Company left Laketown. They were on the very last leg of their journey; the mountain loomed before them, an ominous reminder of what was to come. Though they had laughed before and spoken cheerfully of completing their journey, it seemed that none of them dared to speak too loudly once their goal was so close.

Neither would Bilbo forget the time of nigh constant fear that followed, when he had quietly crept down through the tunnel and into Smaug’s lair. When he had told the dwarves that he would go and fulfil his end of the bargain, he had tried desperately to sound braver and cheekier than he felt; in truth, his heart had been somewhere far below his feet and silently praying that it would not stop beating in the belly of a dragon.

That had been days ago now. Since then, several things had happened that Bilbo could not remember as part of the original bargain. He had spoken to the dragon, nearly been crushed by falling rocks in the tunnel as said dragon smashed the mountainside where the hidden door was, wandered through Erebor’s dark halls while fearing that said dragon would return and find them… The list went on.

But Smaug was dead. Smaug was finally dead and gone, and the hobbit had returned to the old dark halls with the dwarves and aided them with fortifying the front gate. Or tried, at the very least. Hobbits were not made for stonework.

 

And still, despite not having to fear the return of an angry dragon, Bilbo felt uneasy in Erebor. The dwarves spoke cheerfully of what they would do with their shares of the treasure, and how the old kingdom would be restored in all its glory. Bilbo often found himself dragged into these discussions, especially when Thorin was nearby.

“You have helped us so far on our journey, master Baggins,” the dwarf had told him. “This is as much your home as it is ours.”

Bilbo had forced back a comment about how it certainly seemed more like an abandoned cave to him; there was nothing homely about the mountain in its current state, and he was not certain he wished to see any more of it. And with the amount of time the others spent in the treasure chamber, Bilbo was often left to his own devices.

Something had changed in the dwarves, and the hobbit did not like it one bit. All they ever spoke of was the treasure, what they would do with their share, what they wanted included in their share, and so on. Any subject would inevitably lead towards the treasure. At one point, the poor hobbit had attempted to ask how soon they expected to be able to send word to their kin in the Blue Mountains, and immediately the dwarves had started chattering about different possibilities, including the possible cost and from which share of the treasure that cost should be taken.

On several occasions, Thorin would ask to speak with him, and when that happened, Bilbo found that he couldn’t bring himself to look the dwarf in the eye.

_If you look at him, he’ll know_ , his mind whispered to him. _He’ll know exactly what you’re hiding in that makeshift pillow of yours; he’ll know what’s wrapped up in a rag in your pack._

He had planned to tell Thorin of what he had found. He really had. But then they had walked to Ravenhill and received news of Smaug’s death, and there was never quite a good chance. And then… Well. Then Thorin had changed.

While Thorin had always had a presence that commanded attention and respect, Bilbo had never felt frightened by him. Nervous, yes, and confused, but never frightened. Never threatened. And yet, now when he spoke to the leader of the Company, he found himself forcing back the urge to turn and flee like a startled rabbit. There was something in the dwarf’s eyes that he couldn’t recognise, something that spoke of the same wrath and ruin that Smaug himself could have brought upon them. For all that Thorin still smiled at him, still treated him with respect and seemed to trust him, something in his behaviour was off. Something that was more than enough for Bilbo to hesitate to give Thorin the Arkenstone.

 

When the Elves and Men had set up camp in the valley, effectively blocking any way in or out of the mountain, Bilbo decided that it was time for a proper word with his friends. Or rather, one friend in particular who had been snarling like a threatened dog at the mere mention of the army outside their gates.

It didn’t take much to find Thorin alone. While the rest of the Company focused on finding armour and weapons in the ruined halls, Thorin spent most of his time in the treasure chamber; more than likely, he was still searching for the Arkenstone.

Bilbo was more than a little nervous when he entered the chamber. Thorin’s mood had deteriorated quickly after the first scouts had come up to the gate, and his temper was quicker than usual. So far, the hobbit had managed to avoid being the target for his friend’s temper, but all the arguments that had started over the past few days had made him less inclined to attempt to calm Thorin instead.

It truly didn’t take him long to find the dwarf. Thorin stood just by the foot of the massive mound of treasure, slowly letting coins and jewels run through his fingers. Bilbo cleared his throat as he approached, not wishing to startle his friend; he’d already seen some in the Company having to avoid punches thrown at them for that.

The look Thorin levelled at him, however, was one that nearly made him flinch. He had seen it a few times before, in other people he’d once held dear.

“What do you want, master burglar?” Thorin asked slowly, raising an eyebrow as Bilbo gave him a jittery smile.

“Well, you see,” the hobbit answered, searching for words. “I was thinking… It has been a while since we talked, has it not? And I was wondering if we might do that. Talk, that is.”

For a moment he thought that Thorin might refuse, that he would say no and simply ask him to help search for the Arkenstone instead. But the dwarf nodded to him, and Bilbo quickly gestured towards the heavy doors.

“Elsewhere, if you do not mind,” he said. “Only, it reeks of dragon in here, and it makes me feel a bit uneasy.”

Thorin frowned and shook his head.

“Anything you wish to speak of may be just as easily said here,” he rumbled, turning his gaze back to the gold.

Poor Bilbo forced back a sigh. He couldn’t force Thorin to do anything or go anywhere, but for all that he wished that he didn’t have to stay in the chamber, it seemed he had little choice in the matter. Thorin had already decided for him.

“Out with it.” Thorin’s voice was sharp, and Bilbo nearly flinched as the words echoed in the chamber. “What did you wish to speak of?”

Bilbo stood silent at first, trying to figure out how he ought to start. He hadn’t thought this far ahead – if anything, he had expected to be told off.

“Well,” he said slowly. “I just… I miss how we spoke before. Don’t you?” Thorin turned to him again and raised an eyebrow, and the hobbit looked down on his feet. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About home. About the Shire, and about my family.”

He moved cautiously, never meeting Thorin’s gaze, and simply sat on the floor with his legs crossed a few feet away from the dwarf.

“I don’t believe I’ve spoken much of my aunts and uncles,” he sighed. “But you see, lately I’ve thought about my uncle Longo and his family. We’re not close, haven’t been for many years now, but that is not through the fault of me or my parents. Hobbits don’t deal well with change, you see.”

He glanced at the dwarf, managing a faint smile when Thorin came to sit beside him. It calmed him somewhat, and reminded him of how they’d sit by the campfire and talk before they had reached the mountain.

“What changed, then?” Thorin asked quietly. “Whose fault was it truly that your relatives were distanced from you?”

The hobbit huffed and shook his head.

“Well, all in all, uncle Longo was just as much a Baggins as my da,” he said. “And he was not very impressed with da’s decision to court and marry a Took. Apparently they argued about it a lot, until grandpa Mungo told them that they didn’t have the right to complain about each other’s choices, and if uncle Longo didn’t like my mum, he’d at the very least have to be polite and civil around her.”

Bilbo had heard many stories about the months following the start of his parents’ courtship. Most of them included arguments devolving into fistfights that only ended when old Mungo forcefully separated his two sons. According to Bungo himself, Longo had gotten a little too focused on “keeping the family clean”, as he used to put it. Marrying a Took did not fall within what Longo considered appropriate, and he had kept that opinion from the start.

“He really wasn’t so bad when I was little,” Bilbo continued after a moment’s silence. “Of course, that could be because he didn’t see my parents often. Grandpa Mungo always made sure to keep da and uncle separated, unless it simply couldn’t be avoided. He was civil, and he at the very least treated me kindly.” He heaved a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Though, that lasted about as long as it took him to court and marry Camellia Sackville. Dreadful woman, honestly, only ever thought of money and luxury.”

“Your uncle changed when he married her, I take it,” Thorin stated, leaning back against the gold with a small smile. “Started taking up some of her values, I should guess.”

“Don’t you smirk like that, it’s certainly nothing amusing,” Bilbo snapped. “He wanted to please her, as any husband would.”

“Love does strange things to people.” For a short moment, Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes while the dwarf spoke; he looked almost like himself again. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you and your uncle’s wife probably saw him as two different people.”

The hobbit looked away again, a sad look on his face.

“I know that,” he murmured. “And still he changed. He wasn’t the same person after he married her.” He stared at a few stray coins on the floor, trying to gather his thoughts properly to figure out what to say. “I… Hobbits are not good with change, Thorin. We never have been. The change in my uncle was a sore subject for my da up until the day he died. No matter what harsh words passed between them, da still loved his brother just as much as he had when they were younger. He wanted nothing more than to have his brother back.”

Bilbo could feel Thorin’s eyes on him; the Tookish part of his soul wanted to simply meet that gaze and call the dwarf a fool, but the Baggins in him was wary and refused to do so.

_Typical_ , he thought to himself. _Bagginses always were more cautious and more inclined to listen to their survival instinct._

“You are trying to tell me something,” Thorin said slowly, his voice kept low; to the hobbit, it sounded more like a growl than anything else. “You have a purpose in this, master Baggins. This did not merely spring to mind, did it?”

The previously mentioned survival instincts were currently screaming at Bilbo to get out, to leave not only the chamber but the mountain altogether.

“It did not,” he admitted quietly. “The Baggins family has always been proud of not wanting much in life. We’d be content with our homes, our gardens, our food… The small things. We never wanted more. So you can imagine how everyone reacted when my uncle suddenly became the voice of dissent, when he started caring more about money and luxury than he ever had before, simply because of whom he and my father had married. He didn’t like my mother because he felt that the Tooks looked down upon the Bagginses, because they were wealthier. And when he married Camellia, he became nothing more than a grasping viper. He wasn’t content anymore.”

Bilbo took a slow deep breath and turned his head to look at Thorin. There was a strange look in the dwarf’s eyes, one that he hadn’t seen before – and one that sent a trickle of fear into his mind.

“Hobbits aren’t good with change,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “And something has changed within the Company, if you hadn’t noticed. I don’t like it. It frightens me.” He saw something dark in Thorin’s gaze, and he hurried to speak his mind before the dwarf could open his mouth. “Something is wrong, Thorin. Can’t you see it? Or hear it, or feel it? The other day Dwalin very nearly cut off Gloin’s braids, all for the sake of a single sapphire. The day before you and Balin actually shouted at each other over who should have that ruby-studded golden cup. I’ve never seen any of you behave like this before, and it _frightens_ me. I want to know what’s happening, and I want to know why. I don’t… I don’t want to be frightened of any of you. You’re my friends, Thorin. All of you. I just want you all to be safe and hale, and I think that if I hear one more argument between any of you, I will snap. I don’t know what to do. I just want this to be over.”

A heavy silence followed his words; Bilbo could hear his own heartbeat, nearly deafening, and wondered in a small corner of his mind if it was echoing in the chamber just as his voice had a moment ago. He didn’t look away, didn’t break eye contact for a moment though he had to force himself to keep it. The darkness in Thorin’s gaze didn’t leave, didn’t fade as it had for those few precious minutes when they spoke. But the dwarf king’s face was blank, almost like a statue’s.

“Thorin?” Bilbo’s voice sounded so small; had it ever sounded like this before in his life, even when he was little? “Thorin, won’t you say something?”

Shaking himself as though waking from a dream, Thorin got to his feet and held out his hand to help the hobbit up. After brief hesitation, Bilbo took it, a small grateful smile on his face when he was pulled to his feet.

_Not over yet_ , the Baggins-side whispered to him. _He still looks at you the way a predator looks at its prey._

“Everyone has been tense after the dragon died,” Thorin said. “You must forgive us, master Baggins. I’m certain no one intended to offend or frighten you with their petty squabbles.” He gave the hobbit a nearly wolf-like grin. “And perhaps, burglar, you should try not to overthink the situation. We are all of us quite safe within Erebor’s walls. No Men or Elves will take what is ours, not as long as any of us still draw breath.”

 

Mere minutes after his conversation with Thorin, Bilbo sat alone in a corner by his pack, clutching a bundle of rags in his hand. Hidden in the rags was the very item Thorin sought. The one item that Bilbo simply could not let him have, not in his current state of mind.

“It’s settled, then,” the hobbit muttered to himself. “As soon as I possibly can, I’ll be putting an end to all of this.”

He could only hope that what he was planning would be enough to snap his friends out of their dazed state.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the sole reason of trying to explain the eternal dislike between Bilbo and the Sackville-Bagginses beyond "they're unpleasant people", and to try to point at where Otho's later behaviour towards Bilbo actually comes from.


End file.
